Pussy update

You know what? Screw relationships and depression and death and anal sex (gotta slip it in, so to speak. I’m plummeting down the search rankings…). From here on in, I’m mostly going to write about cats. Because you know what the internet really needs? MORE CAT CONTENT. Look! I have a new ‘cat’ category and everything.

OK, perhaps not. I’m not going to be able to turn this ship around into the safe, lolsy waters of cats any time soon. The quite frankly juvenile use of the word ‘pussy’ in the title says it all. I am not, at heart, a pet blogger.

But I *am* going to blog about my pet now, to tell you that the vet saw her yesterday and said she’s now strong enough to go under general anaesthetic to have her teeth sorted, and I passed the RSPCA home check with flying colours tonight. Woo hoo! I can call tomorrow to arrange collection.

I haven’t ‘woo hoo!’ed in a long time. This is good. Though I wouldn’t say I’m feeling woo hooey in the round. Calm. I feel calm. And I certainly haven’t felt *that* for ages.

I have endlessly questioned nearly every decision I’ve made over the last year, exhausting myself by working through the options over and over again.

This is not like me at all. I am decisive. One of my big life mantras is ‘commit’. Make a decision. Making the wrong one is nowhere near as bad as making no decision at all and just letting stuff happen. Commit.  This uncharacteristic tentativeness, this lack of direction, has driven me potty.

Like, when my husband first left, I got stuck in an interminable worrying cycle over The Boy’s new winter coat. I must have bought 10 or 12, bringing them home then returning them to the shop the next day because they weren’t warm/lightweight/waterproof/washable/green/blue/brown/soft/tough/fleecy/furry enough.

The Coat consumed my every waking hour. I actually cried on the lady in Mothercare at one point because I’d found the perfect coat and there wasn’t one in my boy’s size anywhere in the whole bastard world. Proper sobs.

My friend had to intervene in the end and come with me to buy Just One Coat. From Marks & Spencer, of course. And of course, The Boy survived the winter, as he would have done in any one of the 11 sodding coats that preceded it.

Yeah. I haven’t been confident in any of my decisions over the last year. Little things, like The Coat. Middling things, like The BoyChild. Fucking disasters, like HWSNBN. (Newbies, I can’t link to him in any specific way. He runs through this whole blog like the words in a stick of rock. Go have a snoop.)

But the cat? I am confident about her. I feel nothing but certainty when I think about her. She’s a good thing. She makes me feel calm.

Was ever such a burden of expectation placed on such slender grey shoulders?

 

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One Comment on “Pussy update”

  1. I love it that my step-mom is a shop-aholic like me, so she picks out the coats, and I don’t worry about them, because Memaw bought it, it’s perfectly good enough! Otherwise, I would return it nine times, pay way too much, and then, THIS is TEXAS so it would sit in the closet for all but 2 days of the year…. I think you need a Memaw to go coat shopping for you, the rest, well, I’m at a loss for how to fix the rest… been there!! Still am there on some days…


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